


Get a Man Who Works With His Mouth

by Doceo_Percepto



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Face-Fucking, M/M, Things get messy, Vomiting, the Ink Demon is aroused and confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 10:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16911075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto
Summary: Sammy Lawrence has heard snippets about the Ink Demon, and seen glimpses of him before Thomas managed to shuffle him back to the administrative offices. The little hints snag Sammy's curiosity, but he discovers he's not ready for a one on one encounter with the demon.





	Get a Man Who Works With His Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel of sorts to Get a Man Who Works With His Hands, but because this is so tonally different I decided not to put them in the same story. I figure at the beginning of this the Ink Demon is just wondering where the heck Thomas is, lmao. Sammy constantly misunderstands him.

Everybody in the studio knew that Joey Drew wanted to keep the Ink Demon a complete secret, which said a lot about how well that endeavor had gone. The demon appeared wherever he pleased, unbothered by limitations like doors, locks, and Joey's rules. He wandered through all the halls, materialized in any and every room, and altogether proved Joey's attempts to keep him a secret as pathetically entertaining.

How people responded to the demon, however, varied.

Sammy Lawrence knew his peers feared the demon – as they rightfully should, because he was a tall dripping skeleton of ink with a massive grin and horns. His mere presence radiated danger. He loomed in the backs of rooms, scrutinizing everyone with unseen eyes and, undoubtedly, with the amusement of a malevolent God. Sammy’s blood went cold whenever the demon was near, and he was overwhelmed with the sense that the Ink Demon could kill every single person in the studio without the slightest of effort.

So, yes… he understood their fear. He understood why they slunk away from the demon whenever he was near, why none of them wished to be in the same room. It was a base, weak instinct. They saw the Ink Demon and feared him without truly revering what he was, without seeing the sheer majesty of him, the deep inhuman evil that drew Sammy in like a moth to a flame.

Not that Sammy had seen the Ink Demon very often himself… No, his glimpses were often brief, fleeting, and infrequent, as evidently the Ink Demon preferred to spend most of his time in the toy shop and administration offices – or so said those that worked in those areas, complaining about his visits. In Shawn’s case, he had the temerity to respond with delight. A _fearless_ delight, speaking of the Ink Demon as if he was a beloved Golden Retriever or a small child, rather than the powerful devil he was. It made Sammy’s blood burn.

It similarly aggravated him that the Ink Demon spent the most time with (and even listened to!) Thomas Connor, the man tasked with looking after the demon, the man who wasted his time chasing after him. Thomas, too, had a puzzling disregard of how dangerous the Ink Demon surely could be. He should be feared – why did he tolerate, no, _allow_ , this kind of behavior? 

But a God’s mind was a fathomless one, and Sammy tried not to be resentful. The Ink Demon knew better than him, and he should accept that. Whatever reasons he had for permitting their fearlessness, Sammy could not hope to comprehend.

Sammy sometimes just wished… when he dared to… that the Ink Demon would appear in the Music Department more often. Or at all. Only once had he graced the recording studio with his presence, while the band was in full swing. He simply appeared from the wall, for what purpose Sammy never knew. Almost immediately instruments crashed, chairs turned, people screamed, and in the chaos the Ink Demon left nearly as soon as he had arrived. He had not even seen Sammy. Quietly, Sammy was furious. All the others had ruined what could have been a first real encounter with the Ink Demon. Yet Sammy tried to have patience. He prayed the Ink Demon would come to him again. Days and weeks passed. The tension in the studio heightened, and Sammy had become... unfocused at best. How could he create songs for a silly cartoon show, when a real, monstrous demon lurked this very studio?

No… that fact now dominated his thoughts. He ached for another meeting. Ached for the Ink Demon to notice him.

Then, finally, his prayers were answered.

It was after most workers had already gone home, and Sammy was tapping at the keys of the piano. He’d stayed late to get his thoughts in order, to try to gather himself. He had barely produced anything since the Ink Demon’s last visit.  While Joey Drew seemed more preoccupied by other matters, the studio owner had been loose about firing people left and right lately, for the smallest infractions. The last thing Sammy wanted was to be fired from the studio the very moment it had finally become worthwhile. So he’d resolved to get caught up on his work tonight, even it required him to stay hours after.

He was just making finishing touches on a composition for the next episode when cold seeped deep into his bones and he became aware he was not alone. Normally, this would be cause to chew someone out for daring to interrupt him. But there was no mistaking the foreboding thrumming in his blood. His visitor was not any simple mortal. 

Sammy stopped playing. He gathered his courage and turned. His breath was stolen by the sight of the beast, swaying sinisterly dark in the corner of the room. He was here. In the Music Department. With Sammy. Alone.

Sammy’s heart hammered as he scrambled to his feet, unsure which drive was strongest – the desire to flee, or to approach.

The demon made a strange noise that sounded almost… agonized. He staggered past music stands and instruments. He was coming closer. He – he had seen Sammy. He must want something, he –

Oh.

Sammy choked faintly.

He had thought the demon to be above base physical needs such as sexual desire. The realization that this was not so did not at all detract from his adoration. A God, sexual or not, was a God, and his need was hideously alien, huge and serpentine, dripping ink. Presumably, it was something he could make appear whenever he willed it.

Sammy lowered his head so as not to have his unworthy eyes upon his Lord for long. He trembled where he stood. It was impossible not to. The Ink Demon supposedly had not ever killed or harmed anyone in the studio, but Sammy knew he could do so with the greatest of ease. Sammy was a mere insect before him. Something that could be effortlessly crushed should the inclination strike. Sammy only prayed that the demon chose to have mercy on him. And… perhaps chose to make use of him.

That thought crawled chillingly up and down his arms. He had never fully articulated it to himself before, but it was true, that whatever the demon wanted, Sammy would gladly provide. That in truth, his fear had always been twined with a unique yearning that he had never felt for any human.

Here, alone with the monster, Sammy dared to murmur, “my Lord. Anything you need… I will do.”

The Ink Demon by now was feet away from him, and Sammy felt cowed before his magnificence, tugged as if by invisible hands until he was on his knees, faintly gasping.

A soft lowing noise, which sounded inquisitive and oddly out of place. Was the demon toying with him?

“Please have mercy,” Sammy whispered. The demon said nothing. He swayed. His thoughts were mysterious, impenetrable. But at this close distance, it was impossible not to notice the dripping member coiling up and rubbing itself in the corner of Sammy’s vision.

“May I touch?” Sammy breathed, fighting off humiliation. “Is that what you want of me?” Never before had Sammy felt any strong proclivity towards intercourse – people as a general rule irritated him, and his limited experiences in the bedroom were clumsy. In this moment, though, he wished he had done something before that could have provided him with enough skill to be pleasing to the Ink Demon. 

The demon said nothing. His ink dripped over Sammy’s head, and Sammy flinched with every drop.

“You… You may punish me for my transgression, if this is not your will…” Sammy swallowed hard. No punishment came. No signal at all that he was doing the right or wrong thing - nothing except the demon's close vicinity. There was nothing to do but try. He prayed he had interpreted his Lord's will correctly.

With trembling, thin fingers, he grasped the demon's thick girth. It was the first time Sammy had touched the Ink Demon in any regard – the first time even, to be close enough _to_ touch. The ink was cold and slick. Part of Sammy wanted to let go immediately, shuddering from the sensation, and knowing what it was… but part of him was only more eager. The Ink Demon hummed. It sounded encouraging, or at the least, it did not suggest imminent danger.

Terrified of doing something incorrectly, Sammy did his best to imitate the same motions he used on himself every morning, but the texture was disturbingly different, and the Ink Demon was huge. Sammy must have been doing something right, though, as a cartoonish hand came down on his shoulder and a deep moan arose.

With the Ink Demon hunching over him, Sammy couldn’t help but think of how close his dick was to Sammy’s face. Sammy had never taken another man in his mouth before, least of all something like this… But his heart was thudding at the thought. He wanted to please the demon, at any cost to himself. And surely the Ink Demon would prefer a warm wet mouth over Sammy’s hand?

The sort of thoughts running through Sammy’s head frightened him. Before he could overthink things, he brought the slick tip to his lips and tasted. It was awful. Bitter and acrid sharp.

The Ink Demon rasped a moan. His hips jerked; before Sammy was ready, several inches crammed into his mouth and bumped the back of his throat.

“Gh!” Sammy instinctively twisted away. He couldn't take something of that size… He’d never taken anything at all. But he’d be lying to say the prospect didn’t thrill him. Terrify, yes. But also thrill. Sammy rubbed the Ink Demon’s arousal while he steadied himself to try again. Ink continued to drip from above, perhaps more than before – Sammy somehow wasn’t surprised to correlate the excess meltiness with an increased sexual craving. Evidently the brief moment in Sammy’s mouth had been exceptionally pleasing to the Ink Demon. Tiny impatient thrusts seemed to be trying to guide his dick back.

It was what his Lord wanted.

Sammy leaned in.

Yet again he gagged before he had taken even half of the Ink Demon’s length, and he ripped his head away, fat tears welling at the corner of his eyes, bile tickling at the back of his throat.

 _I can’t,_ a voice said, _I can’t do this, I can’t take him-_

But self-disgust and rage rallied in his chest. This was all the Ink Demon asked of him. And he couldn't do even this? Didn’t he want to be useful? Didn’t he want to serve, and please the demon, in whatever way was demanded of him? This wasn’t about Sammy – no, Sammy was being selfish again by thinking so. It was about the pleasure of a creature so much greater than him. It was about how Sammy could be _useful_ to him.

Sammy licked saliva and ink from his lips. The Ink Demon was whining faintly, his arousal curling in on itself again and rubbing needily.

Resolute, Sammy grabbed him again, kneading gently until the Ink Demon straightened it again. Okay. He could do this. His tongue licked the underside of the monster’s cock, all the way up to the tip, where he closed his lips around him lightly and forced him in.

His new determination didn’t stop him from choking, but it did stop him from pulling away. No, he wasn’t going to give up. Sammy grasped the Ink Demon’s bony hips and forced himself down further on his cock. The appendage pushed into the tight ring of his throat and stretched it painfully. A violent gag started and didn’t stop, until Sammy’s forehead and cheeks felt red-hot, his stomach was seizing, and his watering eyes squeezed tight shut.

Oh god he was going to throw up. He was going to throw up; he needed off-

The Ink Demon’s hand clamped like a vice to the back of Sammy’s head. Fuck. His grip was powerful, immovable, and he held Sammy flush to his crotch. Sammy struck his thigh weakly as if a desperate plead, _let go let me go_ \- but the sensation of Sammy’s throat fluttering around his dick must have been a heavenly one, going by the impatient huffing and the Ink Demon’s heightening desperation.

Stomach acid shot up into Sammy's mouth and dripped down his chin in ropes mixed with ink and saliva. But the Ink Demon wasn’t stopping, brutally pistoning his dick into Sammy’s abused throat to an awful squelching rhythm. Sammy heaved again and again, the contents of his stomach repeatedly surging up and pouring from his mouth.

He writhed like a trapped fish, tears streaking down his cheek and snot dribbling from his nose while disgusting sloppy noises filled his ears. His abused throat was forced open with every thrust, stretched to the point of pain, and sticky viscous ink oozed down his clenched esophagus.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn't breathe – He scrambled frantically for air when the Ink Demon pulled out, only to suck down vomit and ink. The Ink Demon shoved back in amidst his wet coughing. The world spun, his vision dimming.

Then, with a shuddering groan, the Ink Demon’s hands nearly crushed his shoulders, and cold ink pumped into his stomach.

Finally he was released.

Sammy collapsed to all fours. He retched; black ink spattered over the floor. Air, precious air. He snucked in phlegmy breaths in relief. 

It took several seconds for the world to solidify enough for him to notice the _purring_. He gazed up through watery eyes. The Ink Demon was regarding him with his head tilted like a puzzled animal. What did he want? What more could he want? Sammy's chest heaved as he caught his breath. "Th-thank you?" Sammy guessed, his voice raspy and ruined. It would be a while before he'd be fit enough to sing again... 

The Ink Demon grinned wider, then turned and vanished into the wall. 

"Urgh." Sammy let himself slump to the floor, which was oddly cool against his flushed face. 

The taste of ink was going to linger on his tongue for a long, long time. 


End file.
